Broken Pink Coda
by Conterra-san
Summary: When the unexpected comes her way, Ise Nanao tries to take it in stride. Little does she know that all is not what it seems with her captain or her newfound orders. . . ShuNanao extended from Blackvelvetband's challenge.
1. Rose Hued Secrets

A/N: I had never, ever, _ever_ considered writing a NanaoxShunsui fic until I was persuaded by this random contest of Blackvelvetband's. . .loosely using the prompt of "bandages, singed eyebrows, and the quote 'I enjoy wiggling my toes'" which may or may not follow through.

So here you are, dear reader, a slightly odd take on this pairing by your truly.

**Chapter 1: **

**Shattered Ideals and Rose-hued Secrets**

She had never liked the color pink.

Ever.

So when she lost a bet to Matsumoto (one of her regretted wilder moments) and had had to go into the lingerie store with her, Matsumoto could not understand for the life of her why—_why_—she had finally picked a hot pink bra with tiny flowers on it out of all the other possible choices.

- - -

Ise Nanao had never liked to drink.

Ever.

So when she got slightly tipsy at an eighth squad party, Matsumoto just stared. Nanao's captain had somehow convinced her to drink sake, and she had relented—"just this once." It was Kyōraku-taichō's birthday, one that marked the assumption of another complete century onto his still virile shoulders.

- - -

Nanao had never been one to take her glasses off.

Ever.

So when Matsumoto came across her sparring with her captain and the lenses cast beside her, she was puzzled. How could Nanao see without her glasses? She couldn't. So, naturally, Shunsui had managed to injure her back as she attempted to finish their fight without her spectacles. She singed his eyebrows and hair with kidō in return, and Matsumoto had had to make both of them go to fourth squad (especially since Nanao passed out shortly afterward).

- - -

Her best friend had never been able to turn down a massage.

Ever.

So when Matsumoto happened to see a very tense Ise Nanao allowing her captain to gently work her sore back muscles shortly after the sparring incident, she wasn't very surprised.

It was what happened next that surprised her.

- - -

"Relax, Nanao-chan!" Shunsui admonished his vice captain airily. "If you hunch your shoulders over any more, you're going to retie the knots I'm trying to work out of your muscles!"

"Hmm," was her only reply, but she sat up straighter.

The only real thought that was screaming through her head was, _DAMN! WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?!_

Lately, her captain had been plaguing her thoughts more than he had been plaguing her.

But she had told herself—_told_ herself—that she couldn't give in, couldn't _ever_ give in, if only because he was Kyōraku Shunsui, and she was Ise Nanao.

Doomed before they began because of their office positions, Shunsui's ADHD when it came to women, and her own reluctance to commit to something she had little to no experience with.

She didn't want to get hurt, and she didn't want to do anything too outside of her comfort zone and beyond the bounds of propriety. Having a relationship with her captain practically embodied breaking the two top rules in her life.

He wasn't serious, or probably wouldn't be for long, so she couldn't get her hopes up. And he was an experienced womanizer, one that could have his pick of all the woman shinigami in the Seireitei any given day.

So, really, she didn't even know why she was even considering it.

Well, no, she did know why.

She was scared.

She didn't want to think about what was waiting for her back in the main portion of the Seireitei; possibly even the eighth squad office buildings barely a hundred yards away.

It was possible that her fears were unfounded, but after her convalesce in Fourth Squad—

_She woke to the clean, antiseptic smell of a recovery room. _

_All she remembered was her captain wailing something about his hair, then his strong arms suddenly closing about her as she fell dizzyingly, and the whispered word, "Nanao?" that had sent shivers down her spine before the darkness claimed her. _

"_Ise-fukutaich_ō_?" came Captain Unohana's calm voice. "I need to speak with you. . ."_

Shunsui broke into her thoughts, saying, "You need to get out more, Nanao-chan. These stressed parts of your back are very unhealthy. You spend too much time doing paperwork."

"That's only because you spend too little time doing yours," Nanao replied primly.

Shunsui laughed, and she imagined that she could feel his throaty laugh reverberating through his large, strangely graceful hands. "Is my Nanao-chan's wound healed?" he asked instead.

Nanao gritted her teeth in annoyance, but she wasn't sure if she was irritated at her captain, or at the fluttering in her stomach. "Not quite, taichō, but I feel substantially better."

"Do you?" he murmured. She knew he still felt bad for accidentally hurting her. "What did Unohana-taichō say?"

Nanao smiled humorlessly. What had the fourth squad captain said? She had said many things. . .

"_. . .and so you could be of great help in many ways, Ise Nanao," Captain Unohana finished gravely. _

_Nanao's mind was reeling. She still hadn't completely registered the long and detailed explanation that the fourth captain had just given her about her kid_ō_. After suffering through several technical-term laden lectures, she had finally understood the gist of what Unohana was trying to tell her. _

_Her kid_ō_ was unique, perhaps dangerously so. If Unohana herself had not healed her, it was possible that her protective energy would have fried a lesser healer. But, as Unohana had dizzyingly suggested, if they tapped her kidō properly, then maybe she could do amazing things. _

_Heal old scars, replenish blood, and even eradicate mortal wounds, much like the human girl with the odd spiritual powers could. _

_Supply portable strength and bonding spells to healers without adequate power with no harm or inconvenience to her. _

_Enhance the training of novices. _

_Nanao had always been gifted in kid_ō_, and was, perhaps, the greatest kid_ō_ master in all of Seireitei, but she had never been truly hurt before. If she had been, it had never been enough for a healer to look at. So this was new, and the possibilities were endless. If this abnormality could be isolated, it could have properties beyond belief. _

_She might be able to fashion a type of bankai with her kidō._

_But most importantly, with minimal training, she could probably completely heal Ukitake Jūshirō_ _within a few years. _

"_If I were to agree to begin," her voice cracked, out of disuse or fear, she did not know, "by merely healing Ukitake-taichō,_ _could this be kept quiet?"_

"_Of course," Unohana told her kindly. "But I think this is very promising. I will talk with the commander-general about your training and your possible transfer immediately." _

_Nanao froze, and her heart nearly stopped. "Transfer?" she choked out after a considerable pause. _

"_I'll have to see. . ." _

So that was why she had gotten herself into this predicament. Shunsui had found her meditating in one of the eighth squad gardens and had begun to tease her mercilessly until she had snapped something about her injury being his fault.

She did not know how he had known—maybe Matsumoto had told him—that she loved massages. Before her hand could even brush the ever-present book lying beside her, he had knelt down and begun to massage her back tenderly, carefully avoiding the lower region where he had injured her.

Naturally, she had melted like putty into his soothing touch. Damn him, she couldn't willingly pull away from a massage! And she could use all the assurance she could get in face of what could be awaiting her outside this garden. . .

"Nanao?" Shunsui asked her softly. "What did Retsu say?"

Nanao jumped slightly and almost began to stutter before she composed herself. "Unohana-taichō merely said that my kidō is extremely resilient and a credit to its wielder. After I go back tomorrow for my check-up, it will not be necessary to return because I will be sufficiently healed."

Shunsui laughed again, but Nanao thought she detected a strained quality in his merriment. "I always knew my Nanao-chan was exceptional!" he said playfully. His voice dropped a few notches,"Maybe even in more ways than one. . ."

She half-heartedly hit him, and then hunched her shoulders again. Shunsui made an exasperated noise. "Yare, Nanao-chan, you are _going_ to get stuck like that."

_If you weren't so ridiculous in your teasing, I would be more comfortable because I would know your intentions. As it stands, I haven't the faintest idea what to think, and it's ripping me up inside. Can't you see that taichō? Can't you _see? "I highly doubt that that is feasible, sir," she murmured instead, but then her inner walls crumbled and she added, "but I can lie down if you'd like."

Shunsui's eyebrows shot up. He was used to Nanao ignoring his advances, and, while it still hurt him, he was used to it. This though. . .could it be that maybe his Nanao. . .?

He had loved her long, but had finally realized it when he had injured her. He couldn't bear the thought of his office without Ise Nanao, his near-quiet rests without her grousing, his days without her constantly by his side, and now, as he wished wistfully, he wanted to spend every night with her in his arms, protecting her so that he might never worry again.

But his top priority was Nanao's happiness, and if she didn't want him, than she didn't want him.

But that didn't stop him from trying.

Maybe one day he would stop being such a coward and tell her outright how he felt. And if she turned him down once and for all, so be it. True, his already fragile heart would never mend, but he could solace himself with the thought that she was happy. He would survive on her happiness and leave her alone.

So her obvious unhappiness today had drawn him to her like a moth to a flame.

This odd compliance, was it because she needed comfort, or was it because she too felt the stirrings of deep emotion within her?

Shunsui looked down at Nanao, who was now stretched out on the ground, and continued to knead her back gently and expertly. Thank all the gods for Matsumoto Rangiku.

Nanao's eyes were closed, and an unwelcome reminder played across her eyelids. . .

"_I have spoken with the general, Ise-fukutaichō," Unohana said calmly. "He says your training should begin immediately." _

_Nanao swallowed. "And of my possible. . .transfer?" _

"_That is still unsure," Unohana told her, worry etched into her normally calm features. Suddenly she frowned, and Nanao felt it too. "What is he. . .?" Unohana whispered almost to herself. "One moment, Ise-san." _

_She returned a minute later with someone in tow. _

"_Ise-fukutaichō? You have a visitor. . ." _

_And he, the apparent determinate of her fate, stepped into the room. _

_Never had she wished more in her life for Shunsui, or even General Yamamoto, however cold, unbending, and downright_ frightening _he could be. . ._

"Nanao-chan?"

"Yes, taichō," she said peacefully, her heart already hardening into stone at the reality of her situation.

"Something is wrong. What is it?"

Again, Nanao smiled bitterly, an expression that Shunsui, thankfully, could not see. What was wrong? Many, many things. . .her final acceptance of what was in her heart. . .how he did not care for her in the way she wished he would. . .how she would now have to go someplace completely new and frightening. . .

"I'm fine, taichō," she whispered, attempting to sound stiff, but failing miserably as the peace suddenly shattered into a thousand irretrievable pieces.

"Is there anything I could do, Nanao?"

Nanao cringed. He sounded—well, he sounded so _sincere_. "I don't believe so," she said in a whisper barely audible to her own ears.

But he heard her. One hand came up to smooth her hair, and she shivered. "Nanao-chan is so strong," he said lightly, but she could tell he was still being serious. "But sometimes even the best of us need help."

"I know," she snapped, suddenly angry. She had no _choice_ now, and it was best that she left anyway. Things were getting out of hand, and she wasn't about to let him _use_ her. "But this isn't one of those times."

"You know I would do anything for you, lovely Nanao-chan," he told her. "If only you asked."

She ignored his comment and thought instead of what she could do to make this man happy. It would be best for both of them if she left, but— "Taichō?"

"Yes, Nanao-chan?"

"If Ukitake-taichō could be healed, forever," she asked quietly, "how would you feel?"

There was a pause as her captain considered this completely unexpected question. "I would be exceedingly happy for him," he replied in an odd tone that sent shivers down Nanao's back again. "And I too would share his happiness. I would be a thousand times less worried, because my oldest and greatest friend would finally be out of the danger of constant death."

A tear slipped unheeded down Nanao's cheek.

It was settled then. She would cooperate.

Anything for her captain. Her Kyōraku-taichō .

His next words were suddenly drowned by the increased thudding of her heart in her ears and the blind panic that rose to flood her mind.

He was here already, and he was making no attempt to hide his presence, which she took as a fair warning to her.

Shunsui wasn't paying attention again, so he didn't feel it. But she did, she felt it acutely in the prickling on her skin right through the marrow of her bones, which were all humming in apprehension.

Her fear of what was happening to her, of this radical upheaval and her broken heart, was eating at her like a fire, feeding on the elastic of her muscles and the suppleness of her flesh, causing her to quiver and clench her fists.

She could not let this get the best of her.

She would not break under this force.

She would ride this tiger.

She came back to her senses gasping slightly, but in control of herself. She lay there, feeling thoroughly dejected.

"Nanao!" Shunsui said sharply. "What happened?!"

"Taichō," she choked, "Oh, Taichō. . ."

"What is wrong, Nanao, you're worrying your poor old Shunsui. . ."

"I can't feel anything," more tears slipped down her cheeks, and she didn't know if she was talking about her back or her frozen heart, "I don't know why." She took a deep breath and tried to be reasonable. "Taichō, please check my wound. . ."

Shunsui paused. Did he dare remove the upper part of his Nanao's robe? Well, she had asked, and, vulnerable as she was right now, he wanted with all his heart to make her feel better. . .

Nanao propped her chin on her hands after she removed her sleeves. Besides her bra, she had several sashes wrapped around her that served as an undergarment.

But she had quite forgotten—

"Nanao," Shunsui breathed. "I didn't know you wore pink. I didn't think you even _liked_ it."

_Damn,_ Nanao thought savagely. _Damn Matsumoto, who made me think of this in the first place!_ "On occasion, taichō," she said faintly.

Shunsui paused again, and then decided he wanted to show his exquisite Nanao-chan some small portion of what he really felt.

He shouldn't be so much of a coward, because from what he could see right now, it was quite possible that she cared for him too.

"Nanao-chan, you're bleeding," he said softly. He gently unwrapped the lower, pink sash and caught sight of her bra.

He froze.

Brilliant, rose pink, with tiny flowers on it.

Flowers?! What would possess Ise Nanao to wear that?!

He grinned wolfishly. Could it be?

He looked at her bandages and saw that a small amount of blood had seeped through to the second-to-last layer, but he wasn't unduly worried. It was nothing Unohana couldn't patch up in the blink of an eye.

Bending down slightly, he caressed a bare shoulder and felt her shudder beneath his touch, making him want to see her expression. Was she excited? Angry? Shocked?

He breathed on her neck, reveling in her slight jump. He carefully pressed his lips to the nape of her neck, savoring the shockingly intoxicating taste of her skin, suddenly moving up the side of her neck to her cheek, breezing gently across her delicate skin hungrily, wanting more. . .

Nanao had been lost in the feel of his hands, had ignored the fact that he might discover her best kept secret, had barely cared as his hands caressed her. . .had finally realized he was kissing her sensitive skin too long after pleasure blossomed in her chest, making her hot all over.

He wasn't serious! He couldn't be! And she had** made up** her mind.

Nanao was suddenly standing above him, shrugging back into her black robe and Shunsui stared bemusedly up at her, salty sweetness lingering on his lips and long-held dreams still pounding through his mind.

What was she doing?! He reached out to her, and he realized there were tear tracks on her cheeks.

Why had she been crying? Had he hurt her? But the pain in her eyes did not seem to be born out of loathing or anger. . .

It dawned on him, finally, minutes, days, months, _years_ too late.

She thought he was trifling with her.

His hand brushed her robe, but she tugged away. She suddenly didn't care about what was waiting for her out there; it would distract her from this impossible man in front of her, at least. "I'm going to fourth squad now, taichō," she told him sternly, adjusting her glasses, her book already in her arms. "I'll be back soon."

With that, she was gone, leaving Shunsui bewildered, hurt, and holding a strip of pink cloth adorned by a single, deep magenta flower that looked oddly like one of the ones that beset his treasured haori.

_- - -_

Matsumoto knew that Nanao would never _ever_ have done that with Kyōraku Shunsui, so she was very confused.

But then she too registered the presence just outside the eighth squad building and remembered what Nanao had told her softly while still in bed in the recovery room.

She put two and two together and swore under her breath before quickly flash stepping away to dissuade her friend from her present course of action.

The pink of her scarf whipped mockingly into her eyes and she pushed it angrily away.

- - - - - - -

A/N: Shooting for the "Flashing Glasses" award!

This will be in four parts and might be slightly crack-ish but def. logical.

PLEASE REVIEW! Or Nanao-chan will take off her glasses and beam you with Cyclops-esque power kidou beams!


	2. Distilled Magenta

A/N: WARNING: This chapter is slightly confusing. All will be made clear at the end. Shunsui does not appear in this chapter. . .neither does Matsumoto. . .(this is killing me!)

Oh and by the way, I do not own Bleach, because if I did, certain perpetual problems (aka people wasting away by themselves in corridors while significant others are off doing other things—coughICHIGOcough) would not be perpetual.

**Chapter 2:**

**Un/Expected Discord and Distilled Magenta **

Ise Nanao was as empty as a sake bottle that Kyōraku-taichō had gotten into.

Over the past few weeks, she had carefully tucked away all of her feelings and fears so that she could live without her captain.

It still hurt, of course, but she had gradually become numb.

At first everything she saw reminded her of Shunsui and she felt like daggers were repeatedly piercing her lungs. She was still reminded of him every moment of every day, but she steeled herself.

All that was left was a kind of empty ringing within her heart. She could never have satisfied Kyoraku Shunsui in _that_ way. He would have lost interest, finding her plain, inexperienced, shy. . .

It was better this way.

This way he would heal fast, she would heal in time, and they could continue to be friends—she would help him occasionally if he needed her.

And he would ultimately be happy because she could heal Ukitake. She had had little choice in the matter of her transfer, and, truly, she was glad.

Or that was what she kept telling herself.

"_So he told you, taichō?" she said emotionlessly, eyes downcast. _

_His hands closed around her arm. "Why, Nanao-chan? And why him?" _

_She shook her head to clear it of rising heat and unshed tears. "The general said so. And if it can help me heal Ukitkae-taichō. . .he _needs_ me, taichō." _

"_I know, Nanao-chan, but I need you too!" he was becoming desperate, all his chances were slipping through his fingers and he wasn't ready; he had thought he had months, _years_ even. . ._

_She turned away, glasses flashing in the sunlight too bright for this impossible moment, one that neither of them had ever really thought would come. "You'll be fine without me, taichō. Soon you'll replace me and you can just remember our friendship fondly." _

_She paused for a moment, but Shunsui was too confused and hurt to say anything. "I will return twice a week to help you until you find a replacement." _

"_You're already packed, then?" Shunsui said softly, regret and sorrow clearly evident in his tone. _

"_Of course my—" _

"_Nanao—"_

"—_last day is—" _

"Nanao_—" _

"—_tomorrow. Everything—" _

"_I cannot change your mind, than?" he asked, knowing she would not listen to anything else he could say. Everything he wanted to say. . ._

"—_is completely settled. There is no reason that this is not the most logical course." _

"_What about us, Nanao," Shunsui tried. "Is this what you want?" _

_She was walking away already, and even though his heart cracked a bit more with every step, he knew better than to try and stop her. "No, taichō," she said with assumed calm, stopping in his doorway but not turning back. "It is what you want, too." _

Their goodbye had been formal and painful, probably for the both of them.

But Nanao whole heartedly believed that she was right about Shunsui, and that was why she was currently in Ukitkae Jūshirō's bedroom.

But everything hadn't quite gone according to plan, or maybe it had, according to _his_ plans. . .

"Ise-fukutaichō?" Kiyone said gently. Nanao snapped back to reality, thinking, _Blasted Shunsui, my mind can't concentrate like it used to. _"It has turned to that magenta color now."

"Thank you, Kiyone-san," Nanao murmured, absently taking the vial from the hot water and swirling it. "You may stay if you'd like."

"Thank you, Ise-san," Kiyone bowed, smiling.

Nanao couldn't help but grin at her. Kiyone tried so very hard and was a sweet girl.

Ukitake was reading a book quietly on his bed, but he looked up when she sat down next to him. "Are you ready, Ukitake-taichō?" she asked him almost worriedly. She knew these sessions were a discomfort, and she hated inconveniencing him.

He smiled at her warmly. "I'm quite fine today, Nanao-san, thank you." His penetrating gaze pierced her, and she busied herself with the specialized kidō in her hands and began to apply it. "How are _you_ today?"

"I'm," she cleared her throat hastily, "fine, sir."

"Hmm," Ukitake growled. "If I could just say—"

"How is your friend, Ukitake-taichō?" she asked softly, cutting off another useless rant but probably opening herself up to another, longer one. The question had come to her lips unbidden.

"How is—" Ukitake closed his eyes and rubbed at them tiredly. "Ise-san, I told you, he's worse than ever. It hasn't changed."

"Really," Nanao murmured, anger suddenly boiling up to fill the emptiness and she welcomed its warmth.

"You should go back—"

"I can't. You know that."

"Shunsui needs you. You know _that_."

"I told you, Ukitake-taichō, that Kyōraku-taichō can manage perfectly well without me."

"Well," Ukitake blew out an exasperated breath. "If you call next to no sleep, too much sake, and too much training perfectly well, then I guess you're right. . ."

Nanao was silent for a moment as she gently teased the last bits of her altered magenta kidō out of the jar. Training too much? That sounded like _her_.

The beginning had been alright, and she had thought that maybe her transfer would not be permanent at all. But then it got harder, as did her relationship with—"

"You know she was offered as your replacement," Ukitake told her. "He refused."

Nanao blinked. She knew who Ukitake was speaking of, where she was now, and why Shunsui had refused her. He, too, was hoping that her new placement was temporary.

She knew better now.

She finished up the healing and cracked a smile at Ukitake. "That's it for today, sir."

She got up and began to collect the few things she had brought with her.

"Ise-san?"

"Yes, sir?"

"If you ever need anything, please let me know."

She closed her eyes for a moment and hefted her book. "Thank you, sir. I have to go now."

He scrutinized her as she fumbled with a few vials. "How is everyone treating you?" he asked cautiously.

"Well," she murmured, closing her satchel firmly.

"Ise-san—" Kiyone began unhappily.

Gods, even this girl could tell. She said flatly, "I'm fine." Seeing the young third seat shrink back slightly, she managed another smile and said, "Really, Kiyone-san. I'm quite fine presently."

"But you—" she objected.

"Hush, Kiyone," Ukitake admonished gently. "Shunsui walks like all the weight of the worlds is upon his shoulders. He looks as though the light has completely gone from the Seireitei, and his eyes are dull and glassy. He goes through the motions of the day with a kind of fierce vigor, and yet it is clear that his mind is elsewhere.

"You are much the same, Ise Nanao."

"This must be true because it is what you say," she told him over her shoulder, her glasses and the light making her expression nearly unreadable. "But in your reasons I think you are mistaken. We—taichō and I—were never like that."

"I think that is precisely why the situation is like this," Ukitake said placidly, as if he did not know what the implications of this statement were.

Nanao was silent. She had nothing to say, her protests were useless and she had already realized some part of this, or that it might be true for her, at least.

"Ise-san," he said, suddenly urgent, "you don't have to do this—"

A memory stirred, _Oh, the lights, they were so bright—what was she doing here? She belonged in cool darkness with Kyōraku-taichō by her side—_ "I think I am too far in, sir," she said, nearly biting her tongue for saying even that much.

"Are you sure? I—"

_The fingers trailed oh so soft over her skin, while the nails left faint pink marks in their wake—_ "I am quite sure, Ukitake-taichō."

"Still, Ise-san, I am so sorry."

_There was blood, she knew she was loosing blood, and then she was suddenly whole but feeling as though she had been dismembered, and then grafted together again; thoroughly violated—_ "In truth, I am too," she admitted in a small voice.

"I wish I could have changed this. . ." Ukitake muttered, and Nanao shifted slightly to see that his eyes were far away, but whether he was staring into the unimaginable past or an unattainable future, she did not know.

_The bruise blossomed like a flower in the spring, and she knew that it had been as deliberate as the last, forcing her to work harder, or to drive her fear deeper—_ "It might have been worse," she said, shaking away her ghastly memories with an effort and drawing him back from that blissful reach of space she could not infiltrate, "he could have been angry with you as well."

Ukitake said nothing for a moment, but she knew he was not done so she did not leave. "You do not trust him, do you?" he said abruptly.

Her heart jumped and she quickly suppressed the irrational hope she felt because she knew who he was speaking of. "Of course not," she told him impassively.

"If you file a complaint, I will support you, you know. I can manage without you, and. . . so can he."

"Thank you, Ukitake-taichō," she said with only a slight tremble in her voice as she turned and began to walk out again, "but I highly doubt my captain will agree."

- - - - - - -

A/N: -GASP- Ukitake isn't her new captain?! What is the world coming to?! ;-D

I'll dedicate the next chapter to the first reviewer who can figure out Nanao's new captain!

P.S. Please excuse my infrequent use of the weird marks over letters that go with Japanese, I tried, really I did.

PLEASE REVIEW! Shunsui will paint everything in your room bright pink if you don't. . .


	3. Taste of Amaranth

A/N : -Does one of those dumb girly claps and squeals involuntarily- Kyliwolf WINS! You are my hero ;-D (I can't even spell it. . .)

Several other people got it too XD. . .you know who you are lol.

Ilea Dreike guessed Ichimaru Gin and I laughed because I wish it could have been him that would have been really fun to write, but that is like someone else's story (Smoke and Flowers? Omg I had a nightmare about Gin after I read that. . .no joke. . .) and he is no longer captain in my story, which isn't important, I think.

WARNING: THIS IS THE CHAPTER THAT NEARLY PROMPTED ME TO CALL THIS STORY "CRACK IS PINK" or "PINK HEROIN." (I wasn't being serious, but this chapter does stretch things a little. . .)

And, consequently, this was the hardest chapter to write. That is why it took me longer than my unofficial deadline. . .which was at least five days ago. . .

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, because if I did, certain perpetual problems (aka people wasting away by themselves in corridors while significant others are off doing other things—cough damn you Ichigo cough) would not be perpetual.

And I do not own "Gone With the Wind," as told to me by some very kind person (ha), so that line down there someplace isn't mine either.

**This is dedicated to Kyliwolf,  
who guessed the captain first,  
and to the three teenagers from my high school  
who have died in the past two years  
from cancer and meningitis. **

**Chapter 3: **

**Oh Captain, My Captain and the Taste of Amaranth**

The first few training sessions had been both manageable and promising.

He had been nice, uncommonly so, and her barriers had dropped slightly.

He took advantage of her sudden, foolish weakness and pounced. His praise had been welcome, if unexpected, and it recklessly raised her self-esteem a few notches.

"_Well done, Ise-san!" he exclaimed, rubbing his hands together happily. "The kidō you have produced is fantastic! I'm sure you are beginning to get the hang of it now." _

"_Thank you, sir," she murmured, pushing up her glasses, almost embarrassed. _

"_Ise-fukutaichō, if you could run over to the barracks and gather the Fourth Seat's reports from his group, I would greatly appreciate it." _

"_Of course, sir." _

Yes, Kurotsuchi Mayuri had seemed like a good man, one who gave her the creeps, but a good man all the same.

How she wished that had been true.

She had forgotten the rumors on purpose, not wanting to believe ill of a man she did not know. And so had the instruction gone, but every training session he reduced the amount of praise and increased the amount of jobs.

By now, bone weariness had settled in and she knew she was being overworked. And by overworked she meant being pushed beyond the limits of her and probably any other's—except possibly Hitsugaya-taichō's—capabilities and having to endure "training sessions" as well.

She still went back to eighth squad twice a week, but Kurotsuchi had not bothered to hide his anger at this and she felt that her visits would soon become limited. She usually spent her time in eighth squad resting with the few friends she had had there, organizing Shunsui's paperwork (he actually seemed to be doing some of it. . .), or trying to ignore the chaos that now reigned supreme in her absence (she had thought this would happen, she just hadn't wanted to admit it to herself). On top of that, she had been studiously avoiding Shunsui in hopes that someday they would be able to speak normally to each other. Whenever she saw him, the pain would start again and even the numbness couldn't dampen it. He always put on a good face, but she realized that he _did_ miss her. Very much so.

Maybe she had been listening to Ukitake-taichō too much, but she was beginning to doubt what she had thought about Kyōraku-taichō previously.

Maybe she had made a grievous mistake.

But, of course, it was too late now. Kurotsuchi had her in his grasp, and, for one of the first times in her long life, she was at a loss for words or actions.

She remembered the first time Kurotsuchi had seemed a bit "off" to her. . .

**Oh, the lights, they were so bright—what am I doing here? I belong in cool darkness with Kyōraku-taichō by my side—**_she had thought wildly as his test room surrounded her in its bleak harshness._

_She had already been there many times, but this time it was different. Kurotsuchi was in an odd mood, and it was causing her to be deeply uneasy. He seemed excited, but darkly so. Nanao blamed her over active imagination and briskly inserted the metal probe that picked up on one of Kurotsuchi's machines into her arm, ignoring the pinch as it entered her blood stream. Setting herself, she relaxed in preparation for the stimulation. _

_It was indeed different, radically so. Normally, Kurotsuchi had thrown various obstacles and simulations at her to force her to produce kidō. _

_This time he sent odd light patterns, various sounds, changing temperatures, and even shocks to overwhelm her. _

_By the end, she was lying on the floor, gasping. How was she supposed to know _he_ was going to go into the unexpected bombardment?! _

_A kick to the stomach and a slash across the back. His doing. Her first downfall. _

_He gave her a smile both twisted and falsely comforting. "Pay more attention, Ise-san. We don't want any. . .accidents, do we?" _

_She looked up at him, confused, and finally it came back in full. _

_The fear. _

After that she lived in slight apprehension that grew worse every time he subtly antagonized her: a brief touch, an accidental pinch, knocking things into her, drawing blood "by mistake."

Then came the actual threat. . .the one training session she could only remember pieces of. . .

_The fingers trailed disturbingly soft over her skin, while the nails left faint pink marks in their wake—_

_There was blood, she knew she was loosing blood, and then she was suddenly whole but feeling as though she had been dismembered, and then grafted together again; thoroughly violated—_

_The bruise blossomed like a flower in the spring, and she knew that it had been as deliberate as the last, forcing her to work harder, or to drive her fear deeper—_

_It was her new captain, he had tricked her and was now using some sort of mind technique, something completely foreign, and she was being tortured. . ._tortured

_Blood and bruises, some real, some fake; swords and kidō, some of it cut and scalded, some of it whistled past. . .she was breaking under the pressure, the torment—_

_Then his face, his leering, multicolored face— "Ah, now we see how it is, don't we Ise Nanao?" he laughed. "Yes, and we'd never want my fingers to slip—" Spirits and gods, his hand was on her neck, and she couldn't breath, suddenly his fingers were stroking her cheek, making her draw back in shock— "Ah, ah, none of that, Nanao-_chan_," he purred. "I always get what I want and this time I want two things, quite different, and yet so attainable—" _

_Her world went dark, but she could still feel his touch on her face, caressing her stinging flesh—_

She couldn't understand it. What had she ever done to him?! But he achieved his goal.

She worked harder, and she feared him a little more.

She was going to give out any day now, and she dreaded to think what Kurotsuchi would do if _that_ happened.

This was folly. And so had said—

"_Nanao! Ise _Nanao_! Stop for just a minute!" exclaimed Matsumoto, finally catching up to the Tenth Company vice captain. She bent over, gasping, and tried to look at her impossible friend. "This is ridiculous! You have to listen to me and—and your _heart_! Leaving now. . .Nanao, you _can't_! It's _folly_!" _

"_Rangiku," Nanao said sternly. "If you are winded after just that, then you are definitely out of shape." _

"_I've been following you _forever_!" She straightened and began to walk with Nanao to fourth squad. "Really, Nanao, why didn't you _tell_ me there was a possibility that you could be working with Kurotsuchi?!" _

"_I was hoping it wasn't true," Nanao mumbled, her shoulders drooping slightly. _

"_Well, it's happened, hasn't it?" Matsumoto said worriedly. _

"_Indeed it has. . ." _

"_If you tell Shunsui to complain. . ." _

"_I've already decided that it's best that I leave. I'm having problems. . ._dealing_ with Kyōraku-taichō all of a sudden and it would probably help him if I were gone too. Not to mention that the only way I can make him happy is to heal Ukitake. _That_ is something I can do." _

"_Something you can—_Ise Nanao_, have you—"_

"Please_ don't say it out loud," sighed Nanao, suddenly collapsing against a building and bringing her hands to her face. _

"_No, really, did you—did you _fall_ for Shunsui?!" _

"_Don't sound so surprised," she said faintly, shifting so that her wound wasn't against the wall. "You always told me it was bound to happen. . ."_

"_Oh, but Nanao! This is wonderful! If you and Shunsui were together, than even that creep Kurotsuchi can't harm you! Maybe even the General—" _

"_No, Matsumoto," she told her friend tiredly. "It's already been decided. And there isn't any 'me and _Shunsui'_—" Matsumoto couldn't remember the last time Nanao had said his name and the way she said it was both bitter and revering, so _complex_— "and there never can be a 'me and Shunsui' because he doesn't lo—" she bit her lip. "It's just not like that." _

"_Oh, Nanao," she breathed, "don't say that, it's—" _

_Nanao got herself up and began to walk away. "Impossibilities never made for good wishes."_

"—_not true," Matsumoto whispered after her fellow vice captain. "Nanao! Nanao!" she called out, chasing after her again. "Nanao, you're wrong, he's—" _

"_Flighty? Insincere?" Nanao snapped. _

"_No! No, he _isn't _You once told me you _admired_ his loyalty! He's a great man, if you'd only give him a chance!" _

"_I know he's great man," she said stiffly. _

"_Well, Kurotsuchi isn't! You've heard about him, I know you have! He's heartless, cruel, inhumane, a _project_—"_

"_I know," Nanao cut her off. "Believe me, I know. But he was relatively nice to me. And he's the only one who will be able to figure out my kidō. I have no—" _

"_You _have_ a choice! I've told you, you think _your_ heart is breaking?! What do you think will happen to Shunsui?!" _

"_When I leave, his world will keep on turning. Please, do not make me feel any more insignificant then I already am." _

"_Nanao, you are—" _

"_Stubborn? Only if I know I'm right." _

_They were at the doors of the main fourth squad infirmary. "Nanao," Matsumoto said seriously, "please think about what I said. And what ever choice you make has to be the one that you feel is right, so I guess if you go to Kurotsuchi. . .I'll still be here, Nanao. If you ever need me, tell me. You know—" _

"_I can count on you. Thanks, Rangiku," Nanao smiled weakly, and she gave her a quick, uncharacteristic hug. _

"_Alright, well, I have to go see to Taichō before he stabs himself with a pen, but feel better, Nanao-san!" _

"_Matsumoto?" _

_She paused. "Yes?" _

"_If it seems like something is wrong, talk to me or Shunsui. I don't know if I'll be able to do anything about it. . ." _

_The forlorn note in the strong woman's voice sent a chill up Matsumoto's spine. "Don't worry," she said quietly. "I will." _

Matsumoto had been right. Kurotsuchi was cruel and heartless and inhumane and countless other things.

She had had ever right to be scared.

And Shunsui. . .he was a memory now, a memory that was too good to be true, from a time when her world was both light and dark in her happiness and annoyance, when her days had been filled with wholesome banter and a manageable amount of paperwork, when she had still been able to feel the world around her and understand it.

Oh, how she missed him. . .

"Ise-san. . ." _No!_ her mind screamed, jerking out of its endless spin of mistakes. _Please, please, _please_ do not come over here right now, I am at my wit's _end. . .

She sat very straight in her chair at one of the desks in the open area that was Kurotsuchi's work space. Maybe today he'd leave her alone. But that hope spluttered and died as soon as it surfaced. She knew she was exhausted; she was an easier target when she was this tired. He had to know that. She carefully completed a signature on one of the papers in front of her and said calmly, "Yes, Kurotsuchi-taichō."

"I was wondering if your work was done yet," he said in quite the same tone, but there was an undercurrent of something stronger and boastful in his voice, and the fingers that ran over her back were strong and searching. "I have a few things to discuss with you."

"I'm nearly done," she murmured, trying vainly to quell her fear and to stop the goose bumps that broke out along her skin at his touch.

"Mmmm," he murmured, and Nanao realized that the timbre of his voice had shifted. The tone was less mechanical, and more. . .well, _human_, really. His hands were tugging through her hair now, unraveling the tightly pinned strands, and she couldn't bear it. She began to shake, but continued to write the papers.

She knew that if she protested, he could crush her. No one would know. She was sick of thinking it, but she had no choice. She could die, or, worse, Kurotsuchi would kill innocents just to stay her hand and her mouth. He had once hinted as such, and she couldn't bear the thought of powerless people from Rukongai being tortured and "tested" only because she had slipped up. . .

"Why don't you ever wear your hair down, Ise-san?" he asked. "I'm sure it would look beautiful."

"Thank you, but I prefer to have it out of my way," Nanao gritted out as he suddenly freed her hair clip and tossed it aside.

Her mind blocked natural fighting reflexes and panicked screams as he began to lightly kiss her neck, much like Shunsui had once done. . .

Shunsui. . .

His hands wrapped tightly into her hair and he suddenly bit down, hard, into her shoulder. She muffled a scream, and jumped up from her chair to run away, fight-or-flight instincts winning over her previously superior calm.

He caught her, of course, but it had been worth the try.

"Why?!" she cried, spinning to face him, her composure in shards with her hair clip on the ground.

But any more of her questions were blown from her mind at the sight in front of her, and she gasped sharply.

A tall, broad-shouldered man in Mayuri's captain's robes, complete with distinctive purple collar and hanging Ashisogi Jizō, was standing before her. But he looked _completely_ _human_, albeit with strange coloring: dark bluish hair and golden, now-enchanting eyes. Was this. . .was this what he _really_ looked like? He was actually—he was actually _handsome_! "You—" she stuttered.

His smile grew wider and he was, beyond a doubt, Kurotsuchi Mayuri. "Relax, Nanao. Soon you won't have to worry about me hurting you anymore—if you cooperate."

Despair blossomed, dark and creeping, in her heart, and her awareness of where she was became detached. Her serene mind registered the whining of several machines to her left, the bubbling of a vat to her right, the humming of the computer, the clanging and banging of an experiment behind her, even the buzzing of a fly above her head and the rapid beating of her own heart.

In her new, resigned state, all her senses were sharper, even as she knew her body was a wreck.

A brief scent wafted through the normal acrid and sterile ones in the office to reach her nostrils and they flared, recognizing this odd smell.

Amaranth.

A spice, flower, or plant that was of use in healing and baking with a pungent and refreshing smell. She had had sprigs of it in her room in eighth squad, a tradition carried over from her hazy days on earth.

It was ironic really. . .

He pulled her to him and she forced herself to relax. "What have you done?" she asked forcefully.

"Someone told me that I wasn't living my life the right way," he told her as a hand moved restlessly through her hair. "That experimentation can't give you everything. They were right. There are some human instincts that can't—_can't_—be ignored. So I renewed my body." His lips were merely inches above her own, and she was drowning in auriferous pools of molten metal. _And I didn't want to be used,_ she thought somewhat ruefully as despair continued to gnaw at her._ I never would have thought this of Kurotsuchi Mayuri!_

"Everything can be ignored, sir." She told him emotionlessly. This Kurotsuchi was just as frightening, surprisingly, but a thousand times more desirable. . .which might have made him worse, really.

"So I thought," he murmured, his thumbs tracing her cheeks and lips. "But I was wrong. I came to find that I did, in fact, want someone for _this_ purpose, and I obviously couldn't use Nemu."

"I fail to see the point, sir," she said, wondering why on _earth_ she had been picked above any others.

"Well, I decided on you, Ise Nanao, and your kidō, with a little encouragement, achieved my goal."

"You did this to my kidō?!" she snarled, rage burning to push away her despair and serenity for a moment.

"Not quite. It was already remarkable, it just needed a little coaxing."

"You have ruined my life!" Nanao growled. "How can you live with that?!"

"Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn. And you'll soon see that I've done nothing of that sort. Your potential is just beginning to show."

"Why me?" she asked helplessly as his tantalizingly odd blue locks brushed her upturned face.

"Your beauty and strong will drew me, of course. Kyōraku Shunsui does not deserve something so exquisite lying within his reach and your ineffable captain needed to be taught a lesson," his voice was low and smooth, trailing caressingly off into nothingness.

Her world became this startling new Kurotsuchi Mayuri when his hard mouth enclosed hers and plundered it with his sharp tongue. She tried to push away, but he was too strong. Her skin smarted where his fingers dug into her back.

He broke away, breathing heavily, eyes alight with triumph. A hand traced the curve of her hip idly, and he said, "That such a marvelous prize could be snatched from the hands of Captain Eight is such a wonder to me. I will appreciate you far more than that drunk baboon."

"Sir, don't, _please_—"

She couldn't get away from his restless hands and strong arms. His hot, heady kisses overpowered her and she was vaguely aware of being forcibly moved against something cold and hard. The smell of amaranth suddenly assaulted her in full force and she drank the fumes of it in hungrily, wishing it could fill her mouth against the bitter-sweet taste of this captain.

What would Shunsui have tasted like? Sake and spices, maybe even amaranth, something _good_.

Something she would never know.

She felt straps closing around her wrists, and she thrashed, violently.

Kurotsuchi drew back, glaring, when she got the nerve to bite him. She blinked and found herself fastened to a large metal plate on the furthest back wall of the lab, practically obscured from view from the entrance rooms. "What are you doing?" she gasped out, her body still shaking with fear and exhaustion.

"Well, Nanao," Kurotsuchi declared, wiping blood off his lips. "I was going to explain this to you in detail, but seeing as you are being so uncooperative, I shall merely tell you this. I am going to drain your body of kidō potential and from now on you will have to return to me each day to obtain your daily dosage or you will die. 

Your kidō will not run out in its storage, but multiply and become an unendingly valuable source of wealth for the both of us. The only drawback is that you will have to depend on me for the rest of your life. . .which isn't a drawback for me, only you, and possibly Nemu. But I believe she is comfortable at the thirteenth division, so it is only a drawback for you, really. . ."

"You're a monster," Nanao spat angrily as he snapped her kicking legs to the plate and strode over to what appeared to be the controls to this contraption.

"The kidō will go into the room behind this one, completely locked and secure, accessible only to me. If you calmed down, Nanao, this wouldn't be painful."

The plate began to rise, and blaring lights turned on. Her whole body was suddenly tingling, and her eyelids began to get heavy, "What did Shunsui ever do to you?" she managed to get out. That _had_ to be it. Her captain had to have done something to slight Kurotsuchi.

He laughed humorlessly, manipulating a few controls so that metal clamps inserted probes attached to wires and tubes into her. "Plenty," he said, "but I will have my revenge now."

"Will I die?" she asked, fully expecting him not to care as her brain fogged with heat and the overpowering need to sleep. _Oh, Matsumoto, I'm so sorry I didn't tell you, _she thought sadly. _And Shunsui, I probably should have trusted you, and you will never know how deeply sorry and_ regretful _I am. . ._

"The possibility is there since this equipment has never been tested, but it is highly unlikely. I fully intend to put you to good use, Ise Nanao. . ."

"The amaranth," she gasped dizzily, the drugs now in her blood stream making her practically incoherent. But she wanted know, she _needed_ to know; if she died she would die not knowing this seemingly unimportant fact. . .

"The amaranth is in the chains for healing and control. Reminds you of your captain?"

She nodded defiantly with the last bit of her strength.

"Ah, Nanao, your Kyōraku Shunsui will pay. . ."

If there was a reason after this threat, she couldn't hear it through the roaring in her ears.

And again, as the darkness finally claimed her, she thought, _How ironic._

This type of amaranth was called Love-Lies-Bleeding.

And amaranth was also a shade of pink.

- - -

Someone jerked up from an unaccustomed afternoon nap and stared blankly in the direction of twelfth squad, wondering if something was wrong and if there was something she should do. . .

- - -

A/N: I rushed the end a bit, I apologize.

I AM SO SORRY IF I BOTHERED ANYONE WITH KUROWHATSISNAME AND NANAO. It worked into the plotline, and I didn't like it any more than you did.

I promise there will be a major Shunsui v. Mayuri battle in the next one XD

Am I allowed to blow Mayuri up? Can I? Reviewers?

Speaking of which, I expect more than 13 because that's how many subscribers I have. . .

UPDATE OR MATSUMOTO WILL SMOTHER YOU TO DEATH :-D

P.S. and yes I broke a few rules with Mayuri and kidō. . .please give me a break. . .


	4. Primrose Breeze

Disclaimer: I am the queen of all this is, all that was, and all that shall be, but since Bleach never happened (WHAT?!) I don't own it. (THE PERPETUAL PROBLEM ENDED THOUGH!!!)

Alright you lot. . .

I know it's been forever, and I apologize. School crept up on me real slow and suddenly became full blown torture out of NOWHERE so I had no time to finish this. And I stalled out, so I had to get more ideas (please excuse the excuse for an idea hiding as comic relief).

I am depressed at the amount of reviews I got on my other fic, I Need Help Ichigo, which is like my baby, so if you go wander over there (points at INHI) and review I would feel about a thousand times better. Am very sad. BUT THE REVIEWS ON THIS ARE FABULOUS!!! THANK YOU!!!!

Anyway, onward to Shunsui! Who I actually had to write from the perspective of seeing as Nanao is –gasp– _unconscious_!

Mount your steed and sally forth, Pink Haori Man. . .

**Chapter 4:**

**Grudging Diversions and Blushing Primrose Breeze**

Kyōraku Shunsui was running.

_Nanao, Nanao, Nanao,_ screamed his mind, and the ground seemed to echo his pained pleas with every footfall.

The past few weeks had arguably been the worst in his ridiculously long life.

He hadn't been sleeping well to the point that it could almost be said that he had insomnia worse than Kuchiki Byakuya.

His attention had been wandering so much that he had even misplaced Kyōten Kytoshi (he had then been obligated to spend several hours just pacifying him).

He was completely exhausted and his afternoon naps were shorter than ever. He had been training relentlessly, unconsciously fighting phantom Azirro Jizōs again and again. It was probably best that he had done so, but that hadn't really soothed his aching muscles after each rigorous session.

If he felt physical pain, he knew that his senses weren't completely dead.

If he felt physical pain, it mainly obscured the mental and emotional turmoil raging inside of him.

Food turned to ash in his mouth. Sake seemed to stick grotesquely to his tongue, but it helped him relax and forget what a mess he was for a time, at least.

The blinding pink of his haori smarted even his eyes now, and he had begun leaving it behind "accidentally" in various inconvenient places. It suddenly seemed too gaudy, almost a hindrance.

Instead, he had been wearing Nanao's sash. He slung it over his shoulder so that it fell across his chest and back, laid over his captain's coat, and tied at his left hip. Matsumoto said something about a human pageant and jokingly told him that instead of "Miss Universe" his sash should say "Real Men Wear Pink."

Whenever he touched the primrose fabric he could almost _feel_ her there.

Nanao had been his anchor in the tumultuous sea of the Seireitei, and without her he was well and truly lost.

That was why he was currently _flying_ towards the twelfth division, a place where he really had no business, because after hearing that Nanao was in trouble, he didn't even think. He went.

Jūshirō had been talking his ear off every chance he had gotten, and Shunsui supposed all of his friend's admonitions had finally gone to his head.

He had resolved not only to save Ise Nanao, but to _win_ her as well.

She had been scared and insecure, and he should have _known_. He _knew_ that her ice-cool exterior hid many things, and he cursed himself for forgetting that she was inexperienced and unsure of herself. He had discovered this several years ago by accident, and he had neglected to reassure her.

He should have known.

And he had to believe what Jūshirō said; that she too was a mess and that she _did_ care for him, because if she didn't, he would quite possibly go insane.

Damn that bastard Kurotsuchi. The mere thought of Nanao struggling with him, the possibility of his—

His intense wave of anger smothered his concentration for a moment and he ran into someone.

"I am so—" he began.

"—glad to see you, Jūshirō!" Captain Ukitake finished sarcastically. "I've finally realized the error of my ways and am going off to defeat dragons, which I _knew_ I couldn't do by myself!"

"I _can_ fight him by myself," Shunsui growled.

"Listen. You weren't the only one told that Nanao is in danger and I want to help. Come on, you need a plan."

"A plan?!"

"Yes!" the white haired man snapped defensively and uncharacteristically. Shunsui reluctantly admitted to himself that his friend was deeply affected, so it was selfish to think that he was the only one who cared. "Maybe we can trick him!"

"No, I want to grind him into a pulp," Shunsui gritted out, attempting to push past Captain Thirteen.

Jūshirō grabbed his best friend by the shoulders and said harshly, "You can do that _after_ you get Nanao out of the Twelfth. It will be a thousand times easier if she is safe!"

"I still don't—"

"Blast! Shunsui!" Ukitake growled. "Think! Nanao _is not safe_. Kurotsuchi is doing something to her. We know that much. We _don't_ know how, or why, or even where. We have to get her out of there safe. If you care about her as much as I think you do, then you will save her first and get revenge later!"

"But he's still _there_! Why can't we do both at the same time?!"

"He'll slow you down and we don't know what that could mean for Nanao! And he could do something crazy, like wipe her memory or turn her into a gigai!"

"He can _do_ that?" Shunsui asked, too shocked to struggle with Juuyshiro for a moment.

"I don't _know_! We have to get Nanao out of there _without_ confronting Kurotsuchi."

After a short bout of grumbling and scowling on Shunsui's part, his shoulders slumped in defeat and he agreed to follow the white haired man back to his squad to concoct some sort of plan.

His haori was lying dejectedly in Ukitake's office, fluttering forlornly in an errant breeze.

- - -

Matsumoto Rangiku was skiving off work, like usual. However, _where_ she was avoiding avalanches of paper was quite different than usual, and for an actual legitimate cause.

Matsumoto was outside of Division Twelve Headquarters, and she was wearing the cowl of a Special Forces Division Two reconnaissance shinigami. Without her telltale hair and assets in view and her face mostly hidden, she could be mistaken as practically anyone, besides the fact that her spiritual pressure was completely masked, a feat reserved, usually, to seated officers. Suddenly realizing this, she leaked a suitable amount out from beneath her shield, hoping that the chunk released wouldn't be enough for anyone to recognize her or to be suspicious.

She carefully pushed open one of the side doors and drifted silently into a corridor that was eerily sterile and brightly lit. She wound her way through the building until she got to the main communications room where screens and shinigami were abundant. She passed through without question, as worthy of notice as the ghost she had been so many, many years before. She paused at the main entranceway, briefly running through the floor schematic she had attempted to commit to memory. Luckily, she could sense Mayuri's spirit energy coming from the same direction she could vaguely remember his office was in, and she headed off towards his large, more private workspace. She knew that Nanao had to be in one of his private labs, but the blueprints had been very vague about the space around Mayuri's central room. They had to be close to his main office, they _had_ to be. . .

"Urgent message for Kurotsuchi-taicho," she said in clipped tones to his third seat, deliberately deepening her voice as she stood strictly and correctly to attention in his archway.

The third seat muttered something into a mouthpiece, and Matsumoto turned to see someone in the Twelfth Division's captain robe emerge from a rapidly closing door.

A brilliant flash of pink light erupted from the chamber before the portal thunked shut. Matsumoto sank heavily to a knee, blinking rapidly to dispel the lingering bursts of primrose in her vision. It was all she could do to stop herself from staring at the man—unmistakably Kurotsuchi Mayuri, of course—standing in front of her, because he was just that: a _man_. A sickening feeling started in her stomach, and she forced herself to look at the floor. "Kurotsuchi-taicho! Immediate assistance is required at the division headquarters! Communications with special team Number Four are down! Increased hollow activity and reinforcements questionable, sir!"

Mayuri grunted and snapped an order at his third seat that Matsumoto barely heard. The smell of amaranth had suddenly hit her and was permeating her whole being, letting her grasp only one thing.

She'd found Nanao.

The captain dismissed her, saying that he had important business to attend to and that a few of his seated technicians would be on the way. After she had dutifully listened to some snide remark about Soifon, she bowed and trotted out, a numb feeling of pure rage smothering any other emotion and serving to check her natural reactions so that she would not give herself away.

Where to now? She could talk to Hitsugaya, he would help her, and he owed her after her valiant attempts at paperwork the night before. In her heart she knew he'd do anything for her if she asked, but she didn't quite want to go begging to him like the scatter-brained lazy idiot he was bound to think she was.

If Nanao heard her say that, she would snap and tell her that her captain was very fond of her and held her in high regard. Matsumoto smiled half-heartedly, but it withered and died as she paused in one of the horribly empty and bright passageways, her eyes alighting on a slip of pink fabric, jagged as though it had been torn from a garment. She bent down and picked it up mechanically, dispassionately.

Her fingers curled tightly around the flake of primrose and abruptly sprang into action, running and flash stepping away towards the 8th Division, as if the petal of color had blossomed her course of action in her.

She would go find Shunsui.

- - -

"What do you _mean_ he's not here?!" Matsumoto exploded on one of Shunsui's division members as she hulked in the doorway to his office, hair and cowl askew, breasts still quite very much hidden—somewhat painfully—and gloweringly furious. "He **HAS** to be here."

A hell butterfly thankfully intervened for the poor girl who had just so happened to be delivering the captain's paperwork so she didn't have to tell a raging Lieutenant Matsumoto that no, she didn't know where the captain was, and no, she didn't know how to find him.

"Matsumoto-fukutaicho," the tinny voice of Ukitake reverberated from the butterfly. "You must have heard the news, and Kyoraku-taicho and I are discussing the new developments in my office. Please join us, I'd be most delighted to hear your thoughts. Ukitake-taicho, Division Thirteen."

"Thank you!" the flushed red head chirped to the bewildered girl and fairly sailed out of the room.

_Those two better have something _good_ up their sleeve_s, Matsumoto growled to herself as she made her way towards Ukitake's division. _Because I'm too frazzled to even think of _looking_ at that walking human machine again any time soon. _

She was somewhat disappointed with the scene that greeted her when she thrust the door open to Ukitake's inner sanctum, panting slightly.

"I've got nothing, Jushiro," Shunsui was growling as he paced up and down the main room like a tiger. "Please tell me you have something that could get us out of this mess."

His best friend was leaning idly against the wall by the window, twirling a delicate flower between his long fingers and staring at the almost overcast sky. "Stop being so impatient," he murmured. "Oh, there you are, Matsumoto-san," he smiled warmly as he turned around. "Oh my, you look. . .interesting."

"I was infiltrating Robot-man's fortress," Matsumoto explained wearily, plopping herself down on a couch-like object. "I need to catch my breath. I feel as though I've ran all over half of Seireitei."

Shunsui had frozen in place and was staring at her with a mixture of horror and glee. "You did what?!"

Matsumoto smiled, slowly returning to her normal state. She knew that the indignant, incapacitating rage she was feeling was not useful to Nanao. She was less numb, and she had to be strong, had to overcome the sick feeling in her stomach, the unbearable worry, in order to help Nanao. "I went into the Twelfth Division, of course."

Ukitake had his head buried in his hands. "Oh Matsumoto. . ." he sighed.

"Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?!" Shunsui exploded, throwing his haori in the air to land next to Rangiku, who looked at it in surprise. "He could have caught you—!"

"Oh well," Matsumoto waved her hand carelessly, "He didn't think it was me or anything, and I do know what I'm doing, occasionally."

"Oh I wish I could have thought of that," Shunsui muttered. "Do you think he'd a attack a poor, clumsy newbie who managed to develop a habit of bumping into him and spilling rather important things left and right?"

"Yes, yes he would," Ukitake sighed again, exasperated. "That is not an option."

"Anyway, I found Nanao," Matsumoto said airily, laying back on her selected piece of furniture.

" You did WHAT?!" Shunsui repeated, with more vehemence.

"She's in this rather shoddy room off of his main lab," Matsumoto reported. "I think the walls collapse." She didn't want to say the rest, but she knew she had to. "There was hot pink light spilling out of it," she muttered. "Like her pure kido."

"Her pure kido is pink?!" Ukitake asked, surprised.

"Well, yes," Matsumoto answered. "And Kurotsuchi-taicho. . .he's. . .different."

"What do you mean, 'different?'" Shunsui demanded.

"He—he looks," Matsumoto struggled to explain it properly. How was she supposed to say that instead of the diabolical and creepy metal-head she had expected, she'd been presented with a young man with slightly odd coloring who was actually hott?! She didn't even want to admit that to herself, yet. So she gathered herself and settled for something brief and to the point, "He looks _hott_."

Ukitake and Shunsui stared at her in horror, and she hurried to backtrack. "He changed, alright! He somehow managed to regain a human form, I guess it's what is really under that gross clown mask, and it isn't half bad, which makes him even more disturbing than usual! He has this intense blue hair and regular skin and nails and teeth and eyes and facial features. . .I don't want to talk about it."

The two men looked at each other, still trying to piece together this image in their minds. "I'm not seeing it."

"Neither am I," Ukitake acknowledged. There was a brief pause, and his face suddenly lit up. "Hey, but I think I've got something!" he exclaimed.

- - -

Shunsui was on his back staring up at the ceiling as Ukitake and Matsumoto worked out the last details of their plan.

They were currently looking for some sort of tracking device, and Shunsui had no ideas. In fact, most of his ideas had run out some time ago.

He looked up when Ukitake suddenly said craftily, "Rangiku, I like your shoes."

'Why thank you, I got then half-off from some vendor in the 17th District of Ru—oh no."

"Oh yes!" Ukitake exclaimed brightly, his hair whipping madly around him as he spun, making Shunsui stare blankly at him.

"But I like my shoes," she wailed. "They match my scarf!!! Why can't we use yours?!"

"They won't fit, of course. If we use them, then I'll buy you a pair of ice-blue heels," Jushiro promised.

"Really?!" She was already reaching for the sandals that were—as usual—not regulation.

"What's going on?" Shunsui asked irritably. He couldn't see how a pair of pink sandals that just so happened to be the right size for something would help anything.

"Oh my friend," Ukitake exclaimed jubilantly as he held up the busty woman's shoes. "These are perfect! We were looking for an innocent looking alarm, but I can do better with these. I'm sure my newest addition to my squad can fix these up with the normal modifications my sandals have! My sandals activate when I get hit with a particularly bad burst of my disease. They alert fourth squad, and allow the recipient of the signal to track my movements. It's been incredibly useful several times. Not only that," he strode over to a cabinet on the wall and removed a small vial from it, "I bet there is some way we can trigger the sandals to release this kido back into Nanao when we flip the release."

"So let me get this straight," Shunsui said as calmly as possible, remembering his lieutenant's razor sharp wit and cool concentration. "You are going to concoct a pair of magic pink shoes, somehow get them on Nanao, and use them to spirit her away when she clicks her heels together and says, 'There's no place like home!'?"

Ukitake and Matsumoto were laughing though, and waved off his cynicism. "They're perfect! If we can get them on Nanao, we'll have her half-way out of there already!"

"Yes, but how are you going to do that?" Shunsui asked with forced calm.

"Leave it to me," Matsumoto saluted smartly.

"And what about this diversion you two were babbling about?" Shunsui grumbled, still not clear on this portion of the intricate rescue attempt.

"I'm going to talk with Kuchiki-san!" Ukitake beamed.

"And I'm going to Hitsugaya-taicho! It'll be perfect!"

Shunsui ran through the entire plan in his head. Although it was complicated, it appeared to be their best bet. His two friends had persuaded him to see the reality of the situation, which was that he wasn't getting Nanao out of the Twelfth Division unless he used extreme caution and precision.

But there were so many things that could wrong! Most of it hinged on this diversion, first of all, and he wasn't sure how willingly it would be carried out. . .and there was the fact that he and Ukitake would have to actually TALK to Kurotsuchi for an undetermined length of time.

That could definitely go seriously wrong.

Then there was Matsumoto's undercover foray, the added factors of the temperamental Hitsugaya, the confused Byakuya, his demure sister Rukia, and any others they wished to include, the indeterminable nature of hollows, the unknowns of Kurotsuchi's vile machinery, and even Nanao's fragile condition were all variables that couldn't be accounted for, so he—obviously—had some misgivings.

His lips curled into a wry smile. Ridiculous odds. Practically insane. A damsel in distress. Magic shoes.

What on earth was he waiting for?

He took a deep breath, and closed his eyes as a breeze ruffled his hair, pulling it from it's now-neatly combed state, reminding him briefly of the seemingly far off days when Nanao had complained constantly about his dress, his hair, his drinking habits. . .

His gaze alighted on his haori next to Matsumoto, and a true smile lit up his face, the first that had appeared in weeks.

"Let's do it."

"I'll bring these straight to my lieutenant!" Ukitake beamed, brandishing the soon to be "magic" sandals.

The scent of the hibiscus and primroses in the Thirteenth Squad gardens wafted through the office and Shunsui breathed in deeply, thinking of how his best friend was getting better and how he would soon have Nanao back by his side—confidence was key now that they were going to go through with this disastrous rescue, so he had to be strong, for her.

"Here," Matsumoto smiled, handing his vibrantly pink trademark garment to him and then helping him to shrug it over his shoulders and fasten it securely. "I'm not sure if she'd recognize you without it."

- - - - - - -

A/N: Whoo hoo. I promise there REALLY will be some MAJOR Shunsui v Mayuri within the next few chapters. I decided to make this fic longer, ergo needed to postpone ass-kicking :-D

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE review! If you don't Mayuri will morph into Hitsugaya's father and together they will rule the galaxy! (I don't know where that came from. . .)

P.S. The real reason I decided to finish this chapter is because I got volumes 14-17 of Bleach for Christmas and I was reading the scenes in which we are introduced to Monster-Research-Captain which REKINDLED MY BURNING HATRED FOR HIM.

On my pride as a Quincy. . .I will kill him! (even though I'm not a Quincy! I'm killing him for Ishida's pride as a Quincy!!!)

Wait. . .I'm not sure if I'm allowed to kill him. . . XO

Ja ne!

Conterra Dondantre


	5. Tatters of Fuchsia

A/N: I don't really know what is going to happen in this chapter, so let's see how it goes, shall we? And I'm running out of shades of pink, even with the help of Wikipedia XD (did you know there is a shade called Japanese pink?!?!)

Oh, and I am apologizing again for the age-long wait. There is something people call college, and it usually ends up owning your soul. . .especially my epically elitist engineering program (joke of my life).

And I just realized, I really miss interacting with people on this site! I promise to reply to reviews and if you have anything to say, please, shoot it my way!

Disclaimer: Wtf is going on in Bleach? I don't own it, so I don't know! But I digress. . .

**Chapter 5:**

**Unlikely Aid and Tatters of Fuchsia**

Nanao was drifting. She wasn't sure why.

Something told her that she should be more awake, and possibly aggravated and/or furious about whatever-it-was that was happening outside the darkness of her mind, but she did not listen to it.

She was being presented with little moments, flashes of a happier time—

His hand brushed against her cheek, and she lashed out at him with her fan, remembering how not too long ago that hand had been attempting to touch her mentor, Lisa. . .but she had forgiven Lisa, and she knew he had moved on, so she had too—

He laughed softly into her ear when hauling her off the ground. Although maybe she should have performed the kido spells before the hollow had knocked her down, she couldn't see what he was laughing about. The hollow was gone, and all it'd done was rip her—oh _damn_—

His arm was slung casually around her without warning, and she staggered under the force of the unexpected weight. He was grinning from ear to ear, and he was totally and completely gone in sake. "She's beautiful, my Nanao-chan," he slurred as she tried to throw him off her, even though she knew he wouldn't budge. "And leagues above every woman I've ever seen. No one deserves Ise Nanao, Goddess of Kidō." Although the cheers of the division rang in her ears, all she really heard was his voice, his inexplicably sincere and insurmountable praise—

He let out a cry of rage and pain, a sound so primeval and strong that she shuddered in its wake, didn't even flinch or struggle when his arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her to his chest, engulfing her in deceivingly blissful fuchsia—

Her memories were brought up short within the swirling darkness behind her eyes as her heart jolted, and the last instance replayed for her, making her suddenly and finally realize what she should have known all along, that she never should have doubted him—and that he truly cared.

And that she would have to trust him to drag her out of this mess. . .somehow.

- - -

"He wants me to do what," Ichigo asked in a flat tone, making it sound like a menacing statement rather than a question.

"Oh, come on, Ichigo," Rukia growled, waving the hell butterfly off of her hand. "All you have to do is go talk to Urahara—"

"I never want to see that crazy bozo again."

"—get him to open a portal—"

"I'm _not_ going through that damn tunnel. It is a pain in my ass, and I am _not_ going to bloody Soul freaking Society, which is an even _bigger_ pain in my ass. He's got to be _kidding_ me."

"—pull out your mask—"

"Ha! Like I'll be flaunting that anywhere _near_ that senile old man who calls himself a 'commander'!"

"—do something threatening or of minor damage—"

"Who does he think I am?!?! Superman?! I can't just randomly blame that on someone else!"

"—and then disappear before they figure out what happened."

"Oh that will work out real nicely," he scoffed, "like your brother won't realize it was me in under, like, a second flat, and you _know_ he wants to ring me up for _something_ so that you won't be able to see me anymore."

"See, that's the beauty of it," Rukia beamed. "I'm going to make sure that he is in on it too."

Ichigo stared at her incredulously. "How are you—did you not hear any of my other object—ouch!" He rubbed his back ruefully where she had thrown her book at him. "Obviously not."

"Are you going to do it or not?" Rukia demanded, glaring at him.

Ichigo just stared at her for a minute, reviewing the long list of problems he had come up with and weighing it against what was at stake. Ise Nanao was one of Rukia's friends, and although he didn't know her too well, no one deserved—and then there was Rukia's desperation, even if she wasn't letting it show very much. She was worried, and that worried him.

"Ichigo—"

"I'm in, alright?," he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "When the hell are you making me go to loony old Hat-and-Clogs' place?"

- - -

Not an hour later, Kuchiki Rukia was struggling valiantly to remain inconspicuous and calm as she strode through one of the central dining quads in the northern Seireitei, a region that was closest not only to her home but also to her brother's division.

It was just typical that Renji would pick now to stop her, ruining her enforced calm and causing her to snap at him more forcefully than usual.

"Bloody hell, Renji! Can't you let a girl minding her own business pass by just once?!"

"Can't a guy offer his help when a friend's in need?" he teased, surprisingly laid back.

She started at his tone and then grabbed the front of his hakama, dragging him, protesting half-heartedly the rest of the way across the square and into a relatively secluded alley.

Her indigo eyes flashed at the appearance of his normal psychopathically smug grin. "What's go you so smiley?" she grumbled, releasing his robes.

"I get to watch you twist taichō around your little finger, you can't blame me for being a little excited, Rukia."

She huffed, blushing, knowing that was exactly what she was planning to do. Byakuya was going to be slightly harder to convince that Ichigo had been. "And here I thought you wanted to help."

"Oh, I'll be supportive, don't you worry. I even stationed his Third Seat on standby just in case. She has an uncanny amount of influence on your dear brother."

"Really?" Rukia asked, raising an eyebrow. She sincerely hoped that Byakuya could be opening up to more people than just her and Renji. "Well, I'll try first, _then_ you can turn her loose."

"I also did some scoping and realized that if Byakuya and Ukitake were on whatever watch, none of the other captains would interfere, for sure. I actually think it is in the rulebook."

"Yes, that was the idea," Rukia snarled, now very impatient and trying to calculate the time window she had before she had to return to Karakura. "So let's go."

Thankfully, with Renji to show her a few handy shortcuts, they arrived at Kuchiki Byakuya's headquarters in about half the time she had expected.

Rukia, who had long ago (probably only a few months, maybe even weeks) gotten over her fear of her older brother now that she knew enough about him, strode purposefully, almost angrily, straight into the main building of Division Six, scattering shinigami and trailing Renji as she went.

"Oh, this is going to be good," Renji whispered appreciatively, a laugh clinging in his words.

"Shut up, you," she hissed, flinging open the office door.

"Nii-sama," she said in a much more even tone. "I hope to find you in good health."

"I don't see how that would have changed since this morning, Rukia-nee," Byakuya replied calmly, effortlessly dashing kanji in elegant columns on a very mundane form.

Renji saw the small ripple of tension go through his captain's shoulders, however, and just the fact that he had deigned to add the suffix to his sister's name—whatever Rukia was here for, he wanted to listen to her.

"True, Nii-sama. You don't go out much."

Byakuya stopped writing and carefully put away the brush. There was a brief silence as he shuffled, organized, and stacked the papers. Then he rose very deliberately and turned towards his sister. "He who lies idle when others are in need will never receive assistance in his own time of need," he murmured, his eyes piercing Rukia in a way that they never would have before the Aizen Betrayal. "And you would not need me if you had not some purpose in mind for my aid."

Rukia took a deep breath, hoping that the brief aphorism was a good sign. "Yes, Nii-sama, someone is in need of your aid."

He turned his seemingly impassive eyes on his lieutenant. "I assume you are involved, Renji."

"Who, me, taichō?" Renji smirked. "Whatever gave you that idea? I'm only here to see the show."

Byakuya's mouth might have quirked slightly, but neither of them could be sure. "This is about the suddenly untraceable Ise Nanao, is it not?"

"So informed, taichō is," Renji continued to smirk, stretching lazily and yawning.

Rukia glared at her childhood friend before addressing the Sixth Squad Captain. "Of course you are right, Nii-sama, and we really are in need of your help."

"I am not included in this 'we,'" Renji declared.

Rukia reached up and slapped him upside the head, and Byakuya's mouth most definitely twitched. "I hope you will be included in this 'we' as you say, Renji, because your friend is clearly in need. And you should always assist your companions."

"Oh, right, that—" Rukia raised her hand again and he quickly switched tactics, "—is completely true, taichō, and I of course will do whatever you deem necessary in this matter."

Byakuya cleared his throat, and Rukia strongly suspected him to be holding in a laugh. "We shall see. Rukia, you will have my assistance."

She twisted the fabric that held Sode no Shirayuki to her waist absentmindedly as she tried to phrase her next thought appropriately. "Well, Nii-sama, what I want you to do, what Ukitake-taichō and Kyoraku-taichō want you to do. . .is not strictly _legal_, per se."

He simply stared at her for a moment. His glass clear eyes effectively hid the slight tingling of guilt he still felt for forsaking her, his only true family, in her only time of desperate need and the deep concern he now felt for her. Although he was sure she now knew that he would do anything for her, anything to make up for his sixty years of silence and pain, he didn't want it to show, to make him vulnerable. But then, he also knew that she, of all people, would not take advantage of him in his weakness. "What would you have me do, Rukia-nee?" he responded quietly, to the eternal shock of Abarai Renji and the obvious delight of his little sister.

- - -

Matsumoto spun the small slip of fuchsia fabric between her fingers absently, trying not to dwell on the fact that she had no proof that it was Nanao's, and that if it was, in fact, Nanao's, then she had no idea what on earth had happened to her.

She was waiting, quite patiently to be sure, for her captain to return from whatever tedious errand he was running and dismally contemplating the surely horrible conversation that was about to take place.

While she had no doubt that Kuchiki Rukia would be able to pull off roping both Kurosaki Ichigo and her older brother into their plan, she was desperately wishing that there was some way they could leave Hitsugaya Toshirō . In fact, she wasn't entirely sure why she had even suggested bringing him into this.

Nanao had always been convinced that Hitsugaya had a soft spot for Matsumoto, and as both the formerly petite captain and Rangiku's affection for him grew, her friend had insisted that it was one of those things that was "just meant to be."

Matsumoto had been inclined to scoff at her every chance she got.

She knew that he was unbelievably powerful, and therefore rightly and unsurpassably her superior. She also knew he was, regrettably, as deadly as he was beautiful. He could probably destroy her with merely a thought, but she was sure he rarely, if ever, thought of her while not in the office.

Of course he was usually in the office, so maybe he thought of her more than she realized.

The side door opened and she jumped up nervously from the desk, her eyes adjusting to the mid-afternoon sunlight pouring into the dim workspace as she blinked rapidly. Hitsugaya stepped in, as soft as a shadow, snapping the door shut and staring at her with a completely unreadable expression on his face.

"Ah—hello, taichō," she grinned sheepishly, pushing her hair out of her way and rubbing the back of her neck with one hand.

"Matsumoto," he inclined his head, and she nearly gasped because she swore that there might have been a flicker of a smile before he ducked his head. "I'm not a little surprised to see you."

"Uh—"

"Instead, I'm very surprised," he said drily. "I thought you would be with Captain Eight still?"

Her gaze dropped as she struggled to breathe against the enormously mixed and confusing emotions of security, inferiority, and passion that churned within her. This happened almost every time she initially saw him now, and she still couldn't stop it. Still couldn't understand why she was so confused. Still, _still_, she could only force the passion down, down, down until the sense of protection and the awe rested peacefully within her breast.

"Yes, well," she murmured. "We came to a conclusion."

She looked back up to catch his faint smirk. "Really?"

"Yes," she said again, inhaling sharply. She _had_ to stop doing that around him, he made her dizzy with the crisp what-ever-it-was he wore or just smelled like, but it was a bad habit that she couldn't break. She was practically addicted to the scent; she stole cushions half the time if she thought it lingered. "Nanao is in grave danger."

Hitsugaya snorted, leaning casually against the wall next to the door. "Please. I could have told you that, fukataichō."

"Well, why didn't you say something, then?" she groused, crossing her arms and pouting.

"Let us examine the facts," he quirked an eyebrow as he began ticking things off on his fingers. "First, Ise Nanao leaves the eighth. Second, Kyoraku-taichō falls into incurable depression. Third, Ise never visits our division anymore. Fourth, the kidō experiments I hear about seem to be working on Ukitake, but when I accidentally run across the new Fukataichō Twelve, she looks like a disaster. Fourth, Ise's reiatsu somehow disappears. Fifth, you manage to sneak into the 12th and straight into Kurotsuchi's main labs."

"Wait a minute," she interrupted. "How did you know I did that?!"

"Clearly," Hitsugaya spread his hands wide, the smirk returning, "something is wrong. Once all the evidence is gathered and put together."

Matsumoto ground her teeth, but managed a smile. "Oh, taichō, you are soooo smart!"

"Now, now, Matsumoto," he chided, "don't go hero-worshiping me again."

She opened her mouth to retort, but he was already rustling through his desk, pulling out objects that she hadn't had the faintest idea were contained in the piece of furniture. "What," he smiled, removing something that vaguely looked like a Batman costume—I am _never_ letting Orihime take me to a movie again, she reminded herself, smiling slightly—and setting it on top of his desk, "cat got your tongue? Weren't you going to ask me something?"

"How did you know I went to the 12th?" she blurted out.

He turned back slowly to look at her, his piercing eyes stealing her breath for a moment before she got a firm grasp on her senses. _I did not mean to actually ask that_, she thought dismally. "How did I know you were in the 12th?" he asked slowly, coming over to stand in front of her desk.

"Yes," she breathed, cursing herself a thousand ways to hell for not being able to keep her wits straight around Hitsugaya any longer.

"Lieutenant," he murmured, the ice pure gaze never wavering, "you really think I wouldn't be right behind you if you were endangering yourself in any way?"

"Ta-tai—" she stuttered, and swallowed, "—taichō, I wasn't thinking anything of it, sir, really!"

"Where did you think I got that from?" he gestured to the black mound on his desk. "Why do you think I did not call you back for the hour this afternoon you were supposed to be in the office?"

She opened and closed her mouth like a fish, completely dumbfounded. This day had been so long, she had had scarcely time to think. Morning paperwork to get on her captain's good side, no lunch because of the urgent message from Nemu, the quick foray into the 12th, contacting Rukia so that she would have enough time to talk to Ichigo, track down her brother, and return to Karakura, the remainder of the brainstorming session with Shunsui and Ukitake in order to hammer out details, and then a skipped dinner so that she could hurry back and arrive before Hitsugaya. Now looking back though, Hitsugaya had not been in the office when she left, but he should have been back just as she had arrived in Division Eight. She was supposed to be in the office until an hour later, then she should have left for Division Eight; Shunsui had requested her help with Nanao's latest kidō test results. In the sudden uproar, she had completely forgotten this appointment, and her duties to the Tenth.

"I am sorry, sir," she told him, dropping her eyes to the cluttered work surface before her. "I will be more conscientious of my allocated time—"

"Damnit, Matsumoto, who the hell do you think I am?" he snarled, suddenly reaching out to grasp her shoulder. "You know me better than that! I don't want you here if you're trying to save your best friend! I thought that I'd broken you out of the cold-hearted bastard mentality you had of me forever ago!"

She backtracked, shaking her head to clear it. Really, why had she said that? "No! No, Taichō, I don't think you are a cold-hearted bastard at all! If I thought that I wouldn't be here right now, I wouldn't be your fukataichō at all!"

"Open up your mind," he growled, pushing away from her. "All I want is to take care of you, and you think I'm scolding you based on protocol insignificant during the present situation!"

Why did this surprise her so? She knew her captain was a capable and trustworthy man. She knew he would do everything within his power to keep his subordinates safe, but "taking care of" implied just a little bit more than that—well, didn't it? "Ah, Hitsugaya-taichō, thank you." He looked up, and she drew strength from his steadiness. "Thank you for understanding, and thank you for—taking care of me." She couldn't help the small catch in her voice as she said it for herself.

He was around her desk in a flash, forcing her to sit down, snapping orders into one of the division communication systems, something about tea and stand by med packs. She was light headed, how had he known? But there was no point in questioning him, he was Hitsugaya Toshirō, child genius, he could probably tell her what she would eat for lunch tomorrow if he really wanted to. Now he was shaking her. "Matsumoto. Matsumoto! Did you even eat today?"

"N—no, Taichō, I suppose not," she gasped, trying not to tip sideways, but his solid bulk was there, supporting her head before she had to move. She leaned against him for a moment, savoring the sensation, before summoning the energy to straighten. "It's alright. I just used too many flash steps with a lower than usual amount of energy, Taichō."

"You should eat, and then rest, Matsumoto," he told her sternly.

"But, sir, Nanao!"

"You weren't planning on doing anything until tomorrow morning, Matsumoto. I'm going to take you back to your quarters, do a quick check with the med pack's Fourth Division contamination spirit force probes to make sure you didn't pick up something in the Twelfth, and then we are going to eat. After that, you will sleep. I know you were up late with the paperwork last night, and, while I appreciate that, you have depleted your energy to an unnecessary level."

Mind reeling with this sudden display of concern and obvious—oh _God_, obvious, obvious—attentiveness to her seeming every movement, she could only protest, "But—"

"Those were orders, Fukataichō."

- - -

The door snapped shut behind Ukitake and he stared impassively at Shunsui, who was twirling a piece of straw idly between his fingers as he reclined on the couch. "You are ready, my friend?"

"I was born ready for this," Shunsui told him steadily, his voice coming out from beneath his wide-brimmed hat. "Anything for my Nanao-chan."

"Yes, yes, I know," Jūshirō motioned impatiently. "But I still want your word. You will stay with me, and allow Matsumoto and Hitsugaya to handle the actual rescue. You will behave in front of Kurotsuchi. You will not try to go back and help Hitsugaya."

The other captain tipped his hat up so he could get a better look at the white-haired man, and his eyes were burning like coals. "If that is what must be done, then so be it. Anything for my Nanao-chan," he repeated.

Ukitake exhaled, reassured by the sincerity in Shunsui's voice, and then fished a tattered scrap of material out of his pocket. "I was just with our daring comrades in the Tenth. Shirō has Matsumoto practically locked in her quarters because she nearly fainted after dinner; not enough food or sleep and too many flash steps. She should be alright for tomorrow, and they both know what to do."

He pressed the fabric into Shunsui's already outreached palm. "She wanted me to give you this. She thinks it came from Nanao."

Shunsui discarded the straw and twirled the fuchsia fragment between his fingers. He brought it to his face and inhaled.

He sat up, suddenly alert, and slung his haori around him. "Come on, Jūshirō. We should catch Byakuya before he retires for the night."

The Thirteen Captain eyed him warily. "Well?"

"Oh yes," he murmured, a rare and much missed smile gracing his features to startle his best friend. "Definitely Nanao's."

"How—"

"Amaranth," he beamed, already striding out the door, leaving Jūshirō to catch up. "I can just catch the scent of amaranth."

A/N: XD

Another chapter done! I can remember starting this story last year. . .in class. . .in high school. . .oh how the good old days fade! Just kidding, I am very happy with my college life. Very, very happy!!!!! XD

Something I hope to slip into the next chapter:

"Ah damn," Ichigo hissed under his breath, turning around. "Hello, Byakuya."

The glare he received could have pierced diamonds. "What did you do with my sister?"

"Erm. . .nothing?" Ichigo returned, thoroughly confused.

Ja ne, loves :-)

Conterra-hime


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